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by samanthalo



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanthalo/pseuds/samanthalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's never fun being the ones left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Home

It's really kind of pathetic the way Kristoff loafs around the castle hallways when he thinks no one is watching. He's looking longingly out the upper windows, eyes scanning the busy courtyard and the teeming ice rink, the snow-capped peaks of the roofs rising around and up the mountainside just beyond the castle walls. He's picking at the cooked carrots on his plate at dinner, avoiding the gentle gaze of the Queen and whatever dignitary who was invited to join them. It's almost docile how he cuts his meat into neat but uneven cubes. It's completely unlike him. Kristoff is known to tuck into food, not one to waste, and he still doesn't, but he's the last one to finish instead of the first. Even the Queen sets her fork down before him, small thing she is, reserved and refined appetite that she has. The servants pretend not to notice. They're used to discretion, keeping the gossip just between them in hushed whispers over the wash basins. They ignore his solid form solemnly watching the traffic as it moves along the bridge. They remove his plate with normal aplomb, nodding when he mutters his thanks.

He moves about his daily duties as if wading through a fog. Winter is ending in slushy ruin all about Arendelle and there are stores and cellars that need to be restocked. There are a constant slew of orders and deliveries. Kristoff reports every morning with inventory, reciting from memory the numbers of ice blocks left with bland assurance, and then retires to the pantry to go over the ledger of accounts for the day. The harvesters are already champing at the bit to get back up to the lakes. They appear in the morning, ice picks tucked into their sashes, ready to report for service. Kristoff turns them away every day. They grumble loudly as they leave, gruff and rowdy, making sure he can hear them when they drawl about his sled still being in storage.

“I'm sorry.” It's late and he can't sleep. Kristoff glances over the ledger by candlelight in the library, rolling the quill between his roughened fingers slowly, thoughtfully. He doesn't usually do this here. He thinks better when its quiet, when he's alone, so he attends to his bookkeeping in his private quarters. Tonight, the view from his window isn't what he wants, so he moves the operation to the library, the harbor perfectly framed between the elegantly arched window panes. When Elsa speaks up from the doorway, he jumps as if he's a child who's been caught doing something he shouldn't. 

“I'm sorry.” She repeats a bit louder this time, stepping hesitantly inside, hands clasped just in front of her stomach. The Queen looks ready for bed. She's traded her elegant day dress for an equally elegant night gown, covered by a thick warm velvet robe in her trademark hue. Her hair is loosed, bright and blonde around her shoulders. He doesn't see her like this often, relaxed and unhidden, released from formal decorum. It catches him off guard, though its not difficult to do so nowadays. 

Elsa carefully considers him for a moment, eyebrows raising when he doesn't reply. A slight flush rises to his cheeks and he comes back to himself, clearing his throat and rising to his feet, quill resting beside the open, frayed ledger.

“Excuse me?” Elsa smiles sympathetically at his obliviousness.

“I said I was sorry. For disturbing you.” She motions towards the work on the desk. He follows her gesture and then shakes his head quickly, words rolling haphazardly on his tongue.

“Oh. No, it's fine, I was just, uh, I just couldn't sleep.” He offers quietly. “Thought I'd get a start on tomorrow.” Elsa nods deliberately, each movement of her head purposeful. She walks over, trailing a finger along the edge of the desk, view casually moving from the open ledger to the window and the fjord through the glass.

“I'm sorry for that too.” She cocks her head just slightly to the left and Kristoff is reminded instantly of Anna.

“Why-”

“She's only been gone for a week or so, but I miss her too.” She interrupts, looking back at him over the gentle slope of her shoulder. “And Sven.” The quick addition sends a tight spasm through his chest. He drops his eyes to the carpeted floor and his suede slippers. 

“They'll be back soon.” His voice is gruff, stoic. He wonders if Elsa can tell just how hard he's trying to pretend everything is normal, if he's really that obvious, until he looks up petulantly through the lengthening fringe of his bangs and feels her almost-maternal attention blanket him. He inhales deeply. The breath he releases takes everything out of him and his shoulders slump deeply.

“It was nice of you to send Sven with her.”

“I trust him more than a fjord pony.” Kristoff scoffs. There's a lot of furniture in the library. The desk he picked to sit at is one of many. There are just as many cushioned benches and chairs, all arranged to offer prospective readers their own little slice of the room, perfect and private. He shuffles over to the nearest couch and falls down on its cushions, stretching out his long, tired limbs.

“I would have gone if I could.” Elsa comes to sit beside him. She sits much more gracefully than he does. A practiced arm pulls her skirts to the side, lets them fall and swish. He barely feels her weight as she settles in. “It was all a little sudden, I'll admit, but the Duke's estate isn't far. Once they docked, it should have only been a day's journey.” He knows she's trying to be reassuring, but her words aren't only for him. Kristoff gives Elsa a side-long glance and can't help but notice the way she's worrying her hands in her lap, pulling and tugging on her fingernails, the joints, the knuckles.

“Easy for Sven.” He adds helpfully. 

“Easy for Anna.” They share a slight chuckle. Elsa doesn't chomp on her lower lip like Anna does. Instead, she curls her mouth inwards, creates a tight, polite line, like she's doing now, as if to keep herself from bubbling over like an open tea kettle. “When we were little, Anna always liked to pretend she was an ambassador, going on trips, sailing the ocean. She'd make me pretend to be Queen and she would introduce me to her dolls-” Elsa's voice cuts off and she shuts her mouth tightly once more. 

“You shouldn't feel bad,” He says suddenly, “About sending her.” He crosses his thick arms across his broad chest. He keeps his eyes determinedly on the fire glowing in the hearth, even when he feels Elsa's surprised stare upon him. A pregnant silence fills the space between them. Kristoff thinks about Anna on the docks, his best friend harnessed beside her, the excitement in her eyes warring with the anxiety carried in her mouth, her fidgeting hands. 

“I miss her.”

“Me too.” 

“She'll be fine.”

“She's probably having tons of fun.”

“Can you imagine the Duke's face when she arrived with a reindeer?”

“There's no better way to travel.” The tight swell of emotion just above his heart slowly fades as he and Elsa continue talking. The fire is dim when she yawns and stands, stretching and rubbing at her eyes. The candle over the ledger has burned out, the shortened nub silhouetted against the silver, flowing water in the fjord. There's a full moon illuminating the world outside, illuminating the darkening library, the light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Anna's ship docks that weekend, white sails proudly bearing the yellow crocus of Arendelle billowing gently in the favorable breeze. Practically the whole town has come down to the pier to greet the Princess, but Kristoff and Elsa are standing just below the gangplank, smiles painfully wide upon spotting a bright, green spot dancing back and forth behind the ships' railing. Anna and Sven have to be restrained from jumping off before the crew has time to drop the gangplank down to the dock. 

There is a raucous cheer and roar of laughter as Anna, frayed braids and salt-stained skirts, bounds down in two steps, slamming into her sister, lifting Elsa off the floor with the force of her embrace. She's crying between giggling, face nearly as red as her hair as she happily sobs into Elsa's shoulder, twisting back and forth.

“Anna, put me down-”

Sven is right behind her, braying happily as he trots up to Kristoff's side. Kristoff bends and buries his face into the reindeer's neck. Tears sting his eyes but he refuses to cry in front of so many people, so he sniffs and wipes away the wetness on his cheeks in Sven's fur. They're safe, they're home. Everything was fine.

“Hey, buddy! You have fun? Were you good for Anna?” He chuckles as Sven gently taps an antler into his head.

“He was the best. Come here, you!” Anna sets Elsa down and reaches for Kristoff. His hug isn't hesitant. He envelopes her completely, closing his eyes tightly at the feel of her body once more against his. He bends backwards and now she's the one being lifted, her legs kicking excitedly out behind her as she squeals in absolute delight. She pulls back and peppers him in kisses, ending with one lingering, long press of her lips against his that has him desperately wishing to be anywhere but on the dock, in front of so many people. Elsa clears her throat helpfully. They separate, somewhat breathless, but the way Anna is smiling at him lets him know that she's thinking the same thing. He sets her down and she nuzzles into Sven, arms wrapped tight around him.

“We're glad to have you back.” Elsa says, glancing at Kristoff with a knowing grin. 

“You guys didn't miss me too much, right?” She beams up at them and all Kristoff can think of is how much he did just that, how painfully aware he was at all times of her absence. He looks down at Elsa, their eyebrows raising in sync.

"You weren't gone that long." Elsa teases, but Kristoff knows what she really means, and so does Anna. There's a still moment where they're all quiet, just happy to once more be reunited, and then the moment drops like a melting icicle as Anna suddenly explodes about her adventure. That wonderful sense of normalcy settles back over Kristoff and he's only half-listening as their little family makes it way through the crowd, back to the castle, back home.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, I thought of this one while listening to the bonus tracks on the soundtrack, specifically We Know Better (why didn't that stay in the movie?!). There's a line where the girls sing about the future and Anna mentions that she'll travel throughout the land as Elsa's 'right hand'. There's plenty of stories where Anna is the one left behind, either with Kristoff or Elsa having to leave, but this line made me think about Anna going on diplomatic visits and what it would be like having the tables reversed. Just a quick little jot in my spare time. :)


End file.
